Extended Disarming
by InkySpectacles
Summary: Keeping Sherlock Holmes alive is a full-time job. Too bad some people don't realize that... based of the tvtrope "Extended Disarming". Not extremely cracky.


Prompt" The trope "Extended Disarming"

Summary: Keeping Sherlock Holmes alive is a full-time job. It's a pity that some people just don't get it. Slightly cracky.

The security guard folds his arms and gives Sherlock an John a irritated look, as if there are a thousand things that he'd rather be doing at that moment. "Please hand in all firearms, knives, aerosols, and other various weapon-like objects."

He's repeated the statement three times already.

And each time, he looks a bit crosser, and Lestrade gets a bit more worried.

The first time, John gave him an easygoing grin and pulled out his Browning, and Sherlock huffed before removing out a knife from his sleeve, and another from his boot.

And that was all right.

But the guard simply stood there and repeated the question. And John rolled his eyes as he relinquished a miniature revolver, and Sherlock looked annoyed as he withdrew a small stun gun from his coat pocket.

And Lestrade was willing to let that slide.

Bu the guard still stood there as John surrendered yet another gun from somewhere within his coat and Sherlock handed over what at first appeared to be a normal biro, but was in fact hiding a thin, razor-sharp blade.

That was when Lestrade began to seriously doubt the integrity of the NSY security systems.

And now, John is parting with what might be a handgun, though it wouldn't look out of place on _Star Trek_. Sherlock's eyes widen at the sight of it, though his only remark is; "Does she know you've got that?"

John's rely of "Who d'you think _gave_ it to me?" prompts Lestrade to wonder what on earth those two get up to when they're not solving NSY cases.

However, it's only when Sherlock produces an odd cylindrical device that glows green at one end, (triggering an impressive lecture on pick-pocketing from John) that Lestrade gives up on the entire affair and retreats to a nearby coffee shop with a request that they text him when they're allowed through.

…

Half an hour later, he returns to see two piles of weaponry flanking his consultants.

Sherlock seems to have relinquished three throwing knives, four stun guns, a can of pepper spray, and what Lestrade really hopes isn't a set of throwing stars.

However, it's when he turns to John's pile that he drops his (ridiculously expensive) coffee.

The pile of assorted handguns, rifles, revolvers, and various other firearms (as well as several stun grenades and at least four sets of knives) could not _fit_ onto a person without breaking several laws of physics and mathematics.

Oh. It appears that there's a blowgun and poison darts too.

Lovely.

The guard makes a move to frisk John's cane as well, earning him a stern talking-to about disabilities and war veterans and _people have no respect these days_.

When they're finally allowed through, Lestrade has wonder.

_What do those two get up to the rest of the time? _

…

Thirty minutes later, it appears that a certain MI6 official _was_ in fact working with the Mafiya, something Sherlock seems to be able gloat about even though there are about fifty weapons that Lestrade's counted pointed in his general vicinity.

And that's when John swings into action.

Lestrade's brain is doing his best to persuade him that _no_, Doctor John Hamish Watson did _not_ just pull out a sword from his cane and hand it to Sherlock, and _no_, Sherlock didn't just disable a few weapons and men before they had a chance to react. (Because _how the hell_ is a sword that bloody _sharp_?)

It's also trying to convince him that Watson didn't just extend the rest of his cane in the manner of a bo staff as if this were a kung fu movie, because that would be ridiculous.

Needless to say, it's failing miserably.

When the dust settles and the Yard sweeps in (because this is _London_, and we don't care that you're secret service, you didn't notice _one of your own_ was a traitor, so _why don't you go back to you desks_?) Lestrade notices the two people that are responsible for more of his migraines than the rest of the city put together standing a little off to the side, grinning like schoolboys.

As he walks by them, he hears the tail-end of their conversation, with Watson remaking that "…they never remember the staff…"

**So, this is proof that I'm spending far too much time on tvtropes. Oh well. **

**On another note, I seem to have developed an obsession with the idea of swords hidden in canes (I've mentioned them in two of my other stories) Who cares? THEY'RE COOL!**

**Bonus points if you can point out one of the other fandoms I've mentioned here!**


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